It was a sunny afternoon in the middle of
June 1991. I was going home after the last day
of classes in my first year at a Salesian high
school. I was very thoughtful that day: “What am I
going to do during the whole summer?” One year before,
my parents had told me that the high school wouldn’t
accept me because of my lack of discipline. I would
have to find another school. They finally accepted me after
I promised to behave better and not interrupt the teacher
during every class or make a ruckus with my little
clique of friends during recess. Things hadn’t gone any better
this year…

I didn’t want to leave this school; it was
like a second home. The joy and enthusiasm at the
school of Don Bosco, under the protection of Mary Help
of Christians, imitating the example of Dominic Savio– all this
had become my natural environment. This was accompanied by a
deep inner restlessness that never left me alone, a disenchantment
with fleeting things: any gift that was given to me
in my childhood, any show of affection. Everything was passing
very quickly for me: if they were toys, by the
third day they were already ruined; when I was taking
a course or some sport, by the third or fourth
day I had abandoned it. I was looking for something
that would fulfill my deepest desires. All this came together
in a growing lack of discipline, and, as is logical,
all this caused plenty of worries for my mom.

The only
peace I found from this interior emptiness was in the
moments dedicated to prayer and at Mass on Sunday. We
used to go to Mass with my grandmother, a profoundly
Catholic woman. She taught me how I should speak to
God, with simplicity and openness: spontaneous prayers to Mary, visits
to the Eucharist, praying the Rosary. This was the first
thing that prompted me. The best day of my childhood
was when I made my First Communion. Everything was setting
the foundations for my friendship with Christ. I learned that
I was only able to be at ease in front
of Christ in the Eucharist, just being with him, looking
at him. The other thing that I enjoyed a lot
was the country; nothing mattered so much to me as
mounting a horse and traveling the hills and valleys, contemplating
the landscapes. It was a solitude in which God made
himself present in the beauty of his creation.

But let’s return
to that day in June when I was on my
way home. This year things hadn’t been any better. United
to my pranks and a great taste for the “alley”
lifestyle, studies were going badly and I had to prepare
some three “extraordinary” exams and present them in August. Thus,
I thought that if I remained the whole summer without
something to keep me occupied, it would be dangerous…

One of
my habitual pranks at home was to disconnect the telephone

and hide it. That afternoon, historic for my life, I
was bored and on the verge of doing a new
bit of mischief. I took the telephone and decided to
disconnect it and look for a new hiding place; no
one was at home. This prank immediately seemed a bit
old. I decided to put it back, connect it, and
leave it in its place. Some seconds after I connected
it, it rang.

A telephone call“Hello, Rodrigo! Do you remember
me? It’s Father Leopoldo.” At that moment, the image of
Father Leopoldo Cuchillo, LC flashed across my mind. I knew
him from a couple years previous: always dressed as a
priest, all in black, enthusiastic and with something special about
him. And those things attracted me a lot, in any
Legionary I met. I knew why he was calling: a
year ago he had invited me to the summer program
at the Legionaries’ apostolic school in Ajusco. I had always
tried to be kind to him because I did like
him a lot, even though in the end, I never
showed up at any of his retreats.

At that moment he
already had a full list of boys that were going
to the summer program in Ajusco. Three or four days
remained until they would leave. He told me that he
saw my number on one of his lists, and he
decided to call me at the last minute to see
if I was interested this time. That same afternoon he
would leave from Morelia and he wasn’t going to return
except to pick up the boys who were signed up.

All
this surprised me. What a coincidence! I hadn’t spoken with
him for almost a year, the telephone had just been
reconnected, he just happened to see my number before leaving
town… After this, it wouldn’t be hard to reconsider his
invitation. That same afternoon, Father was at my house. He
arrived with Father Gerardo Mendoza. They again showed me the
pictures of the seminary in Mexico City and of the
activities they were going to have during the summer. That
really attracted me, but something was keeping me from saying
yes. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t making
a mistake. One bit of advice from Father Gerardo put
a crack in the wall that had formed between me
and the vocation: “Doesn’t Christ deserve one opportunity?”

Yes, Christ did
deserve an opportunity, and I decided to go to the
summer program.

When the set day came, after having prepared everything,
something told me that God was touching my life and
that I had found the answer to all my worries.
I was barely thirteen years old, but I thought that
with this trip I was undertaking a path that was
as difficult as it was fascinating. I didn’t conquer my
desire to do a big prank at home before leaving.
I decided to go to my older brother’s room and
leave him a little “memento”: to leave everything messed up
as if a stampede had gone through it. When he
realized it, I was already 300 kilometers away. It all
began just like that: a telephone call and another call
that my heart had been waiting for.

From the moment I
arrived at the apostolic school, God made for me a
kind of ‘personal sign.’ I liked everything, but there were
things that were hard for me: yes, above all, it
was the specific demand of such a life. Halfway through
my first year at the apostolic school, I could say
that I already had the certainty that this was my
vocation. Plenty of things continued to be hard for me;
it seemed that this beautiful path would be long and
difficult. One day in May, during my first year, I
placed my perseverance in this priestly call in the hands
of the Blessed Virgin. I remember that I told her
that on my own I wouldn’t be able to keep
my vocation up to the priesthood. She would have to
take my call in her hands like a treasure and
bring me to the day of my ordination. Mary has
done this with flying colors. From that day I had
the certainty that she was guarding my vocation as her
own. She didn’t need my “permission” to act when it
seemed opportune.

A profound experienceIn that summer of 1991,
I made the greatest discovery of my life: the Legion
of Christ. I asked every question there was: Why do
the fathers dress that way? Why the name “Legionaries?” Why
this? Why that? All this seemed to be unveiling, and
I wanted to know more. In fact, in no time
I was able to meet Nuestro Padre.

One afternoon we
were playing at a school in Mexico City. Since I
was a little injured, I didn’t take part in the
games. I decided to take a walk through the school.
It was my first time with the person God had
chosen to place the Legion in the history of the
Church and in my life’s journey. Our founder was walking
through the school gardens; it impressed me a lot to
see him there. I was able to say hello quickly.
There began a series of short, intense encounters that would
continue throughout the next sixteen years. I guard those moments
with Nuestro Padre as a treasure in my memory. I
was never the same after receiving my first letter of
encouragement. His advice was all directed toward being generous with
Christ. In particular, I remember August 12, 2002, in Cuernavaca,
when my companions and I professed our perpetual vows. Nuestro
Padre presided over the ceremony. At the end of the
Mass, when I was able to thank him, he told
me: “You have to remain strong.” I hear that order
each day when Christ invites me to be firm and
faithful in love.

To the school of Don Bosco… and of
the Legion of ChristThe day I received my first
destination for apostolate, they told me that I was going
to help found the apostolic school of Guadalajara. Those beautiful
years in Ajusco came to mind and another one after
those, a saint in cassock, surrounded by boys: St. John
Bosco. Since I was three I had lived in Morelia.
I remember my grade school there at the school that
the Salesians had had for more than sixty years with
great nostalgia. Two things from those years have been very
helpful in following my vocation: the relationship I began with
Christ and the enjoyment I through the formation of adolescents.

Work
with adolescents has been my apostolate for a couple years.
In the moments of struggle, I remember the image of
that saint of Turin, surrounded by boys, showing them the
path to happiness. Don Bosco made so many young men
happy! He saved so many from the dark precipice of
unhappiness and made them see their own dignity as sons
of God! His secret was to live full of joy.
In these years, working in the Legion’s apostolate, I have
learned that the best language for speaking with adolescents is
joy and simplicity. That is the only thing that can
really win their hearts and their openness, and at the
same time, their enthusiasm and innocence. We can see this
enthusiasm and surrender especially in Nuestro Padre. He was a
great inspiration for me in my religious life and now
in my priesthood. I remember with gratitude those encounters I
had with our founder, the last of which was in
October 2006.

And what about my family? Did I forget them
that day? No, never. Each day I have felt very
closely the love that my family has for me. Their
lives, the path that each one has taken… I feel
their decisions interwoven with the path of my vocation. This
is a call of the greatest love from God, not
only for me but for each of my loved ones.
I am convinced that just as God calls me every
day to be happy in his company, so he calls
them to the happiness that only he can give. We
are united by family bonds and by the same vocation.
I am very grateful to my grandmother who encouraged me
to follow Christ, to give my life and pray ceaselessly.
“Don’t let him go,” was her prayer, asking Christ and
Mary for the gift of my perseverance until the priesthood.
Now from heaven, she will be able to accompany me
on the day of my ordination. Thank you also to
my mom who has been my companion and has lived
the things I recounted here just as intensely as I
did.

Upon arriving to the priesthood, I thank God for two
things that have not failed in these sixteen years. The
first: I have not doubted my vocation from the beginning,
nor have I thought of leaving it. The second: my
parents did not deny their support, always showing a great
respect for the plans of God and for my decision
to follow this path from my adolescence.

There is one person
in my vocation sustaining it all and will do so
until the end. She has authority over everything I do
for God and for others: Mary, the mother of Christ.
Now comes the second part of what I asked her
on that morning in May, that she allow me to
be faithful until death in the service of God. Only
in heaven will we be able to know how much
she has loved us on this earth; there is no
love greater than a mother’s. Only in heaven will we
know that Mother’s heart that beats in unison with the
Father’s.

Father Rodrigo Barceló Gómez was born in Mexico on August
12, 1978. Ever since he was little he lived in
Morelia, Michoacán, where he did his grade school and high
school with the Salesian fathers. In 1991, he entered the
apostolic school in Mexico City and, afterward the novitiate in
Monterrey. He studied humanities in Salamanca. He helped as a
formator at the apostolic school in Monterrey. He also helped
found the apostolic school of Guadalajara and has worked in
promoting vocations. He has a license in philosophy from the
Pontifical Regina Apostolorum College. Presently he is a working at
the apostolic school in León.